


remember that first laugh? (all of it changed once i had that)

by cornerkick



Category: Women's Soccer RPF
Genre: (yes that's legitimately the entire reason this fic exists), Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Waffle House, F/F, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-05
Updated: 2020-02-05
Packaged: 2021-02-26 10:52:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22567102
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cornerkick/pseuds/cornerkick
Summary: There are two universal truths about working at Waffle House.Firstly,  people have really, really strong opinions about their food.And second, Lindsey would have quit a month ago if not for Emily.ORthe soran WaHo au
Relationships: Lindsey Horan/Emily Sonnett
Comments: 10
Kudos: 161





	remember that first laugh? (all of it changed once i had that)

**Author's Note:**

> so last week i asked you guys what kind of soran fic you wanted and fluff won out. this is the result of that.
> 
> based on a prompt from my cc and largely proofread only by me, so all mistakes are mine.
> 
> title comes from dermot kennedy's "rome" which doesn't have a lot to do with this fic but the line about the laugh seemed appropriate.

There are two universal truths about working at Waffle House.

Firstly, people have really, _ really _ strong opinions about their food.

And second, Lindsey would have quit a month ago if not for Emily.

Emily, who wanders into the restaurant at the strangest times wearing UVA Softball sweats, a messy bun in her hair, and the softest smile Lindsey has ever seen.

She also hasn’t been in in the last week, which has put a damper on Lindsey’s mood and a heavy slope to her shoulders that Rose keeps teasing her about. 

It’s 9 pm on a Thursday, so Lindsey’s sitting at one of the empty tables refilling salt shakers while Rose volleys a soccer ball behind the counter. She’s up to 108, so Lindsey throws a dish rag at her. She curses, loses her balance, and drops the ball.

“Linds, what the fuck?”

“We’re working,” she says simply, not looking up from her hands. “Or I’m working and you’re fucking around.” 

“There’s no one in here,” Rose says, flinging an arm out at the deserted restaurant. There’s one guy at the end of the counter nursing a cup of coffee and grading papers and a group of high schoolers tucked into a booth playing paper football, but the restaurant is otherwise empty. “And we’ve got a scrimmage this weekend. Or did you forget?”

“Considering we came here from practice, no, I haven’t forgotten,” Lindsey grumbles, twisting the lid back onto a salt shaker. The bell atop the door jingles pleasantly, but Lindsey doesn’t glance up. She’s busy and Rose isn’t. She can deal with it.

“Oh, hey,” Rose says, her voice uncharacteristically chipper. _ That _makes Lindsey look up from the salt shaker.

There’s Emily, wearing a hoodie that looks a size too big and dark circles under her eyes. Her mouth is still quirked up in her usual smile as she heads to her regular booth at one end of the dining room. 

“I got it,” Lindsey says, standing up so fast she knocks her chair over. 

Rose gives her a sideways look and covers a snort with her hand as she hands over the menu Emily doesn’t even need. “Smooth.”

“Shut up.”

Emily’s got a couple of textbooks, her school notes, and her laptop spread out on the table in front of her by the time Lindsey gets to her table. She’s got one headphone in and doesn’t really notice her when she says hello the first time. 

Lindsey looks at her. 

Emily’s hair is still wet and pulled back into a messy bun under a baseball cap. She’s wearing one of several sets of UVA Softball sweats with the number sixteen on one thigh. One of her sleeves is rolled up. She’s chewing the inside of her cheek and trying to queue up a playlist, eyes narrowed slightly as she fights with WaHo’s spotty internet. 

“We changed the password,” Lindsey says helpfully, pulling Emily out of her trance.

She blinks up at her, lips turning into an easy smile as she props an elbow on the table. “What’s a girl gotta do to get that password?” 

“Well, for starters, we’ve missed you on Mondays.” And Wednesdays. And, usually, Sunday mornings. Lindsey doesn’t want to sound like a stalker so she doesn’t add the other usual days of Emily’s schedule. She knows Emily’s typical order and how she takes her coffee, but she doesn’t even know her major. That would be a weird thing to admit.

“Yeah, we had a tournament in Florida last week, which was cool, except now I’m so far behind in my classes I’m drowning in notes.” Emily holds up a stack of notes handwritten in an untidy scrawl. “Coffee, please? Do you think you’d be any good at hooking up an IV?”

Lindsey shakes her head. “No, but I can leave the pot.” She pours Emily’s first cup and tries not to get stuck watching her throat bob while she takes a few large sips. She sets the pot down for her, too. It’s not like anyone else will need it.

“How was the tournament?”

Emily shrugs, leaning her cheek into her fist. “It was okay. We came in second. I almost got the cycle in our last game, but I couldn’t get the triple.” 

Lindsey knows this. She figured out Emily’s last name because it’s plastered across the back of almost every sweatshirt Emily wears, so she’s seen Emily’s Twitter feed, Instagram, and Spotify playlists -all without ever following her, which Rose says is “really weird.” 

She’s also read Emily Sonnett’s name in the school’s online newspaper. She’s a junior shortstop and trained with the national team last summer. She’s on the short list for the Olympics and won a U18 championship when she was seventeen. 

So she’s pretty good. 

“The usual?” Lindsey asks even though she doesn’t need to.

“Yes, please. Extra bacon? I’m starving.” 

-

On Wednesday, Lindsey is running late.

She overslept, showed up to practice late, and was forced into running wind sprints for half an hour afterwards. 

That means that by the time she shows up for her shift, Emily’s already nestled into her booth with an empty plate and Rose Lavelle in front of her. For some reason, watching Rose make Emily laugh sends a prick of annoyance right through Lindsey. 

She pulls her hair back, puts on her apron, and goes to serve the next customer at the counter. 

Lindsey keeps looking at Emily, though. She ends up pouring white-hot coffee onto the counter because she’s so busy watching Emily chew the end of her pencil while she narrows her eyes at something in her Sociology textbook. 

“Hey!” The guy she’s pouring coffee for says, pulling his hat back from the spreading coffee.

Lindsey feels her face getting hot while she scrambles to wipe up the spilled coffee. “Sorry, sorry,” she mumbles. Rose is laughing at her from her table. When she dares to look up, she finds Emily is watching her, too. 

She blushes harder.

-

Emily usually stays late on Wednesdays. She works her way through at least two classes worth of readings, three cups of coffee, and a waffle platter before putting her schoolwork away and resting her head on her folded arms.

This is usually when Lindsey brings her a piece of chocolate pie, but Emily looks like she might actually be sleeping, so Lindsey just slides the plate in front of Emily and turns to go.

“Thanks.” Emily’s voice is muffled, but she turns enough to peek out at Lindsey from beneath her cap, a small smile curling her lips. “Why don’t you sit?”

“I’m working.”

“There’s, like, three people here including me.”

Lindsey hesitates, just for a second, and it’s enough for Emily to backtrack. “I mean, if you wanted. You can have a bite of my pie, if you want. Or not. No pressure.” Emily sits up and cuts into the pie to take a bite, presumably to stop herself from talking. 

Ducking her head to hide a smile, Lindsey says “I’ll be right back.” She’s true to her word and returns to Emily’s booth with a container of clean silverware. 

Emily quirks a brow at her.

“I’m _ working_,” Lindsey emphasizes with an eyeroll. 

Emily lounges back in the booth and licks some whipped cream off of her fork. Lindsey forces herself to look away. 

“You work a lot.” 

“Yeah, I turned down a scholarship to a school with a good soccer program but a not great educational one to come out here and, well, I’m paying for it.” Lindsey waits a beat before adding “Literally.” 

Emily nods like she gets it. “Yeah, Emma was gonna come out here with me. We played together forever. But it was too expensive for us both.”

Lindsey tries not to think about how weird it is for Emily to be dating a girl named _ Emma _ , but that just leads her to think about how Emily likes girls and _ that _ makes her think about-

“Emma’s my twin sister.” 

Oh. Relief swells in her chest for some reason and Lindsey goes back to rolling the silverware. 

“There are two of you? That’s terrifying.”

Emily barks out a laugh and Lindsey smiles widely, proud of herself for getting the sound out of her. She really likes that sound. She wants to hear it again. 

“Yeah, but don’t worry. She’s in another state.” 

“Good, I don’t know if I could deal with two of you.” It’s easy, this banter, even though Lindsey’s really glad Emily’s here. 

She finishes her pie and reaches across the table to pluck a spoon, fork, and knife from the container. She rolls it expertly and Lindsey raises her eyebrows. “Texas Roadhouse. Worst four years of my life.”

Lindsey cracks up at that and they fall into a comfortable silence, rolling silverware, until Emily’s alarm goes off to remind her about lift. 

“Duty calls.” She gathers her things to go and gives Lindsey a mock salute. “See you, Linds.”

Lindsey blinks at her retreating back, _ Sonnett 16 _ splashed across her shoulders. 

She didn’t even know Emily knew her name. 

-

“You wear a nametag, dumbass,” Rose says the next morning. Lindsey’s spotting her and she seriously considers letting the dumbbell crush her. 

“Yeah, but I didn’t think she’d, like, notice.”

“She sits in your section every day.”

“Only three days of the week, actually.”

“See,” Rose says, pushing the weight out from her chest. Lindsey does take it and set it on the bar so that Rose can haul herself to a seated position. She pauses to take a swig from her water before continuing. “Only someone with a crush would know that.” 

“Only someone who doesn’t pay any attention _ wouldn’t _ notice. She’s been coming in the same days every week for _ months_.”

“Look, Lindsey,” Rose says, stretching her arms over her head and leveling her with a long look that Lindsey doesn’t much like. “I know you haven’t been with anyone since the asshole, but I think it’s time. If you don’t use it, it dries up, you know?”

“Rose,” Lindsey complains, shoving her off of the workout bench so she can take her place. “Put a couple more twenties on there. And shut the fuck up.” 

Rose flips her off but adds the weights to the bar before lifting it off of the rack with some effort. “Jesus,” Rose grumbles, letting Lindsey take the weight and start her reps. “I bet you could deadlift a person. You could definitely deadlift _ Emily _. She weighs, what, a buck fifty?”

“I could definitely deadlift _ you. _You weigh nothing soaking wet.”

“You couldn’t -hey, Hayley. Hey, Sonny.” 

Lindsey almost drops the weights when she turns her head and sees Emily Sonnett and a group of girls walking through the weight room. Emily’s wearing baseball pants and Lindsey kind of sees what Mal was talking about now. She scrambles to lift the bar while Rose talks to the softball team and Lindsey _ can’t find the rack _ and if she dies because she was checking out a hot girl’s ass, well, so be it. 

Suddenly, the weight is lifted. 

Lindsey’s vision is a little patchy and her chest burns. “Thanks.”

“No problem. You good?” 

Lindsey almost passes out. Emily’s grinning down at her looking a little bit concerned and a lot amused. Lindsey swings her legs over the side of the bench and sits up and, oh, that was a _ bad _ idea. The room spins a little bit.

Emily hands her a bottle of Gatorade. Their fingers brush. Lindsey hopes that Emily attributes the warmth in her cheeks to her workout. 

“You good?” Emily asks again, eyebrows furrowing. 

Lindsey takes greedy sips from the bottle before nodding. “Sure. My spotter just screwed me over.”

Emily chuckles. “Yeah, I saw that. Hey, what was that about deadlifting…?”

Trying to ignore the way her ears burn, Lindsey clears her throat. “Nothing. Just that I’m pretty good at it. Rose is an idiot.”

Emily nods, her gaze lingering for a second too long on the cutoff sleeves of Lindsey’s t-shirt. “I bet you are.”

“Sonny!” Someone yells and Emily looks over her shoulder. 

“Hang on.”

“Batting practice!”

“I said _ hold on _a sec. God.” Emily shakes her head and then glances back to Lindsey with a fond eye roll. “They’d be lost without me. Anyway, I’ll see you Sunday, right?”

Lindsey thinks about Rose saying it’s weird that she knows Emily’s habits and then thinks about Emily knowing her work schedule. She smiles. “Yeah, I’ll see you.” 

“It’s a date.” 

Lindsey chokes on her Gatorade. 

Rose sighs. “I can’t take you anywhere.”

-

On Sunday, Lindsey wakes up at four a.m. with shaking chills and body aches and a fever of 103. She barely makes it to the bathroom to throw up and ends up curled up on the cool tile floor while Rose brings her water and Advil and tries to coerce her back to bed. 

It lasts four hours and even after, she’s tired and achy and still fighting off a fever. 

“Must have been that thai food you ordered in last night,” Rose says, wrinkling her nose while she throws a blanket over Lindsey’s prone body. “Can you, like, move if you’re alive? I don’t want to come back and find out you actually died.”

Lindsey reaches out with a foot to kick at Rose’s side, but she’s too sick and slow to even make contact as Rose dances away. 

“Okay. See you later.”

-

Later that afternoon, Lindsey gets a text from an unknown number that says _ missed u today _

Lindsey blinks at the screen and narrows her eyes slightly before typing back. 

_ Who is this? _

The mystery person responds in about five seconds. _ emily _

And then, in quick succession: _ from waho _

_ u no with the waffle platter and bacon _

_ and coffee _

_most_ _ppl just call me sonnett_

_ its my last name _

Despite feeling like death, Lindsey smiles to herself. She adds Emily’s number to her contacts. She doesn’t bother waiting a few minutes before responding, either, like she might have with her ex. 

**Linds:** i know who you are. _  
_**Linds:** i missed you too.  
**Son:** sry u dont feel well  
**Son: **will u b back tmrw?  
**Linds:** i think so. i’m already feeling better.  
**Son: **is it bc i texted u? i have that effect

Lindsey rolls her eyes but she’s still smiling.

-

On Monday, Lindsey’s suffering through a philosophy class when her phone lights up on the table. Their professor is ancient and has a scratchy voice and kind of looks like Voldemort, but he almost never turns around, so Lindsey doesn’t feel too bad looking at her phone.

**Son:** linds do u go 2 uva too?  
**Linds:** yeah. why?  
**Son:** r u in philosophy of ethics w/ prior rn  
**Linds: ** okay, sonny, that’s creepy. why do you know that?  
**Son: **turn around

Lindsey does. 

Four rows back lounging with her feet up on the table is Emily. She waves blatantly at Lindsey and throws her a thumbs up. 

Lindsey stifles a laugh. 

Emily just gestures to her phone again. Lindsey glances down at the screen.

**Son:** i havnt been to this class in weeks  
**Son:** coffee after?

Looking at Emily, Lindsey nods, earning her a wide grin from Emily. Lindsey turns back around to face front and hides her own smile behind her textbook.

-

The rest of the class passes slowly. Every time Lindsey glances at the clock, it’s barely been a minute. She doesn’t text Emily back because that seems a little bit desperate. Rose, who normally sits beside her in this class, slept late and isn’t there to play cup pong with. 

Lindsey thinks she might be going crazy.

Finally, after what feels like forever, Professor Prior stops talking and the class collectively wakes up and starts packing up. 

Emily is by her side within moments, looking sleepy and warm in a soft maroon sweater and joggers. “I can’t believe we’ve been in the same class all semester and didn’t notice.”

“Well,” Lindsey says, standing up and shouldering her bag. “Between your game schedule and my sleep schedule, we probably missed each other.”

“That makes sense. Aren’t you guys off, though?”

Lindsey chuckles as they fall into step together to leave the classroom. On autopilot, she follows Emily to the cafe on campus. “No days off,” she says, imitating an old teammate of hers who’s graduated.

Emily tips her head and Lindsey doesn’t think she’s imagining the little blush on her cheekbones. They order their coffee and Emily pays for them both before Lindsey can even reach for her card. 

She smirks. “You can get the next one.” 

They end up walking across the quad together nursing their coffees. Emily throws herself onto the grass without spilling hers and glances up at Lindsey expectantly. 

She joins her even though the idea of getting grass stains on this white tee makes her skin crawl. 

Emily sprawls out on her back, using her backpack as a makeshift pillow, and crosses her legs at the ankles. She pulls her baseball cap down low. “What do you have next? Do we have time for a nap?” 

“I have French in ten minutes,” Lindsey admits with a sigh. 

Emily lifts the brim of her cap. “You’re taking _ French _? Tell me something.”

There’s a little sparkle to her eyes that makes Lindsey’s stomach flip pleasantly. She doesn’t want to disappoint, so she says. “Mon nom est Lindsey. J’aime le café, le football, et toi.” She says it with a forced, thick French accent and only realizes after she’s _ said _ it that she left out the _ making you laugh _part in favor of just _ you. _

A blush colors Lindsey’s cheeks, which makes Emily grin, but she doesn’t react to her slip up. She just blinks at her and offers a soft laugh anyway. It makes Lindsey’s chest ache in the best way. 

“Full disclosure, I don’t speak French at all so all I got out of that is that you’re Lindsey and you like soccer, coffee and...toys?” She wiggles her eyebrows at Lindsey and Lindsey feels her blush deepen. 

“Something like that,” she says, because admitting to liking Emily seems more dangerous than admitting to that right now. It makes Emily laugh again and she feels validated in this choice. 

“Linds!” Rose is on her way to Spanish, which is in the same building as Lindsey’s French class. She waves at her from across the quad. 

Lindsey thinks about ignoring her, but knows she’d never hear the end of it. She lifts a hand to greet Rose but doesn’t call out to her or anything. She just looks back at Emily. “Thanks for the coffee. Yours is on the house tonight.” 

It’s a little presumptuous, but they talked about it last night. 

Emily stretches back out on the grass again and lifts her own to-go cup in a mock toast. “It’s a date.” 

“See you later.”

“Bye, Linds.” 

By the time Lindsey meets Rose halfway, Emily’s dozing peacefully under a tree. Lindsey wonders if she’s supposed to be somewhere, but it doesn’t really look like Emily cares. She also wonders if Emily knows that she blushes so much around her because she likes her.

“Snap out of it, Horan,” Rose complains as she shoulder-checks her on their way into the hall. “Or your face’ll stick like that.”

-

**Son:** linds  
**Son:** i totally forgot i have the orange/blue game under the lights tonight  
**Son:** no WaHo for me :/

Lindsey’s stomach churns again, but this time it’s in disappointment. She’d been looking forward to seeing Emily again that night.

**Son:** what times ur shift? u should come by!  
**Son: **games at 4. ill be the one with the highlighter orange cleats

-

It takes some serious ass-kissing, but Lindsey finds someone to cover their shifts and all but drags Rose along to Emily’s game. Rose has a hot dog, an order of nachos, and a large soda in hand as she settles into the bleachers, so she’s not complaining.

Much.

“It’s freezing. If my ears fall off and my equilibrium is off, I’m blaming _ you_.” 

Lindsey’s holding a hot chocolate between her hands. “I told you to dress warm.” She’s layered up with a jacket over her hoodie, a beanie pulled low over her own ears. She also can barely feel her toes, but she’s not about to admit that to Rose.

Her attention’s on the field, anyway, where Emily’s juggling three softballs without her glove, making her teammates laugh. She’s in the dark navy uniform, though she’s got an orange long-sleeved thermal beneath it and eye black beneath each eye. 

One of her teammates throws her glove at Emily, who drops all but one of the balls, and turns to swiftly fire it back. “Fuck off, Cait!” She hollers, grinning ear-to-ear and putting her glove on.

It’s then that Emily notices Lindsey in the stands and their eyes meet across the chain link fence. Emily’s face breaks into a wide grin and she raises her glove hand to wave enthusiastically. 

Lindsey can’t help but laugh and wave back at her.

“Oh, dude.” Rose says around a mouthful of nachos. “You are _ so _ fucked.”

-

Lindsey can’t take her eyes off of Emily. When she’s playing defense, she’s precise. She plays aggressive, shifting based on the batter’s stance and playing in when some of the other girls don’t, but she _ never _ lets a ball get behind her, not even if it means throwing her entire body into the dirt. 

She makes a spectacular bare-handed grab at one point and manages to flip a double-play and looks right at Lindsey after she does it, grinning while she fixes her bun before the next batter.

Before she takes an at-bat, Emily pulls the cross necklace she wears out from beneath her jersey and kisses it. She hits her left foot, then her right, then her left with the end of the bat and digs her back foot into the dirt, the bat waving as she sets up. 

When she hits a homerun in the top of the 9th to put her team ahead for the first time all night, she flips the bat and points to the sky before taking her lap around the bases, making a show out of strolling along the third base line and bowing to the crowd, which is mostly made up of friends and family, and leaping into her teammates’ arms.

And she manages to get the final out by diving for a rocket off the end of the bat and flipping it easily to the secondbaseman. 

“She’s good,” Rose says from her left. 

Lindsey just nods. She’s more than good, Lindsey thinks. She’s a natural. 

-

“I’m going home,” Rose tells her, bundling herself further in the jacket Lindsey was forced to give her during the third inning because she wouldn’t shut up about how cold she was. “Are you coming or waiting to see if Sonnett looks at you again?”

“I’ll catch up with you.”

“Sure,” Rose says, sounding doubtful. But Lindsey doesn’t have to tell her twice. She disappears in the crowd and is out of sight in seconds. 

Someone reaches for Lindsey’s sleeve and she turns to find Emily, cheeks flushed and hair falling out of its bun, smiling back at her. “You came! I wasn’t sure you’d be able to.” 

“Yeah, I moved some things around.” 

“I’m really glad.” Emily _ sounds _ glad. She’s carrying way too much stuff, with her bag slung over one shoulder, two water bottles, her keys, her team cap, and a package of sunflower seeds precariously balanced in her hands, which Lindsey is absolutely not staring at. 

“Here,” Lindsey says, holding her hand out. 

Emily doesn’t give her anything right away, just rocks forward on her toes to plop her cap on Lindsey’s head instead. She laughs, then, breathlessly and Lindsey feels lighter than she has all day. She turns the hat backwards on her head and slides her hands into her pockets. 

“Good game, Em.” 

Emily glances briefly down at her shoelaces, which have come untied, and then back up at her. The smile she’s wearing is more shy than the one she wore on the field. It reminds Lindsey of the sleepy one she sometimes has on her face at Waffle House. 

"Thanks. I’m kind of missing my usual Monday waffle, though.”

Lindsey tips her head slightly. “We could go back to mine? We have a waffle maker, but we’ll have to stop for eggs and like...pancake mix.”

Emily’s eyes light up. “Hell yeah. Let’s do it.”

-

That’s how they wind up in the campus convenience store buying eggs, a box of pancake mix, and chocolate chips. Lindsey’s carrying their haul when Emily makes a distressed noise beside her and disappears. “Em?” 

“We forgot something important,” Emily insists from the aisles. She zigzags a bit before finding whatever she’s looking for an announcing “Aha!” 

She returns with a can of Reddi Whip just as Lindsey’s handing her debit card over to the kid behind the counter. “Hey,” Emily complains, nudging her in the side. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“Payback,” Lindsey replies, taking the whipped cream from her and putting it on the counter. “For the coffee.” 

Emily can’t really argue with that.

-

Rose and Mal are watching an episode of _ The Bachelor _ when Lindsey manages to get the door open. They both look up when Lindsey walks in, but Mal glances back at the TV when she notices Emily. 

Rose doesn’t. She turns fully around in her seat, finishes taking a sip of her soda, and smirks. “Hey, Sonnett. Long time, no see.” She’s talking to Emily, but she’s looking right at Lindsey, who flips her off over Emily’s shoulder. 

“Yeah, well, I figured you guys would miss me if you didn’t get your regular Monday Sonny time. Kitchen?” Mal points her towards the back of the apartment and Emily throws her a thumbs up as she retreats into it. 

_ She’s cute! _ Mal mouths as Lindsey follows after her, not without pausing to smack Rose in the back of the head with one of the throw pillows as she goes. 

“Okay, so, I know you work at WaHo but I’m an expert waffle maker.” Emily’s already at the sink, all of their ingredients laid out on the counter. “So, if you want, you can just pick the playlist and sit back, for once. You’re always bringing me food anyway.” 

Emily’s still wearing her jersey, but she’s traded her baseball pants for loose-fitting shorts instead and she’s got the jersey unbuttoned to show off a plain t-shirt beneath. 

Mal was right. She’s _ very _ cute. 

Lindsey busies herself queuing up a playlist. Emily moves around their kitchen like she belongs there, digging around until she finds a bowl large enough to mix the batter and singing along to every song that comes on without missing a beat. 

Lindsey makes them a pot of coffee, just for something to do. It’s too late for it and she’ll probably be up all night, but she knows _ Emily _ drinks coffee around this time during her Waffle House runs, so she’ll suffer through one sleepless night for her. 

Emily perches on the counter after doling the batter into the waffle maker and accepts the cup of coffee Lindsey hands off, made with just a splash of cream, just like she likes it. She takes a sip and hums in appreciation before pointing to the waffle iron. 

“I think you can take it from there?” 

There’s a timer on the waffle maker, so Lindsey won’t burn the place down. It was one of Rose’s caveats in letting her cook at all. Lindsey plates them a waffle each and Emily piles hers with whipped cream before taking a bite. She chews thoughtfully and then gives her a thumbs up.

“_ Almost _as good as WaHo.”

Lindsey scoffs. “You’re the one who made them, so that’s on you.”

“Touche.”

“Are you guys gonna stop making out and watch the rest of this with us or what?” Rose calls from the living room. Lindsey feels her cheeks warm and shoots Emily an apologetic look. 

Emily just chuckles. 

“Also,” Rose continues, her voice carrying now. “Can we get some of those waffles? It’s _ my _ waffle iron.” 

Emily hops down from the counter to cook two more waffles. “We don’t have to hang out with them if you don’t want to.” Lindsey doesn’t want Emily to feel like she _ has _ to do anything, including hanging out with her annoying roommates.

“They’re your friends,” Emily says with a shrug, plating up the waffles and handing them over to Lindsey. “If you like them, I’ll like them. Besides, I already know Rose.”

When Lindsey looks nonplussed, Emily adds “We took Intro to Sociology together, like, two years ago. And I’m in her Spanish class.” 

Lindsey blinks at her, recalling that morning on the quad. “...the one you slept through?”

“That’s the one! Here, you can handle three plates, right? You got the waitress practice.” Emily carries her plate and two cups of coffee into the living room, where Rose is occupying the middle of the couch and Mal is curled up in Lindsey’s armchair. Emily sinks heavily into one of the corners of the couch.

“Okay, what’s going on?” She asks, taking a bite of waffle and looking towards the TV.

“That’s Mike. He’s the Bachelor and he has to pick between all of these beautiful women.” Emily nods along to Mal’s explanation of the show. 

“These two might be more interested in hooking up with each other, though,” Rose says while Lindsey elbows her way between her and Emily on the couch. Lindsey’s pretty sure she’s _ not _ talking about _ The Bachelor _. 

They eat. They watch reality TV. They complain about commercials. Emily entertains them all by dancing along to the commercials and reenacting the particularly bad ones. Then, around 9:30, she falls asleep leaning heavily into Lindsey. 

Lindsey’s afraid to move. Somewhere during the second half of the episode, Lindsey had reached up to scratch the back of her neck and Emily had leaned in to her side, so now Lindsey’s arm is half asleep draped around Emily’s shoulders while Emily leans into her side. 

Rose snaps a picture before getting up. The flash makes Emily stir. 

She blinks a few times, looks around, and stretches, nearly smacking Lindsey in the face. She smiles softly at Lindsey and reaches for the brim of the baseball cap she’s still wearing. “Looks good on you.” Then, she fishes around for her cell phone, looks at the time, and curses. 

“I should probably go,” she says reluctantly, forcing herself to her feet. “I have an 8 am.”

“Why would you do that to yourself?” Mal asks around a yawn. 

“Past Sonny thought future Sonny would _ like _ an art class despite the time, but she was kind of wrong.” Her voice gets quiet as she shoves her feet into her untied sneakers and collects her stuff. “Sorry, Linds. I had a great time.”

“Let me walk you,” Lindsey says and, from the kitchen, Rose snorts. Lindsey ignores her and the blush she feels creeping up the back of her neck. “It’s late.” 

“I mean, only if you want.” 

“I want.”

“Okay.” 

-

Emily’s place is only a few blocks away, but Lindsey feels better making sure she gets home safely. They walk so close that they bump into each other a few times and Emily shifts her gear bag to the opposite shoulder. Their swinging arms keep brushing. 

Eventually, Emily grabs Lindsey’s hand and holds it. Lindsey feels a little thrill run down her spine. Neither of them looks over at the other. Lindsey does link their fingers just because she can and Emily doesn’t stop her.

“...you said something about an art class?” 

It’s the first thing either of them has said in about ten minutes. Emily looks over at her and adjusts the bag on her shoulder. In the dark, Lindsey can’t really tell, but she looks a little bit nervous, the way her brows are furrowing a little bit and her forehead’s wrinkling. 

“Ah, yeah. It’s just a drawing class.”

Lindsey decides that now’s as good a time as any to ask. “What’s your major, anyway?”

“Sociology.” When Lindsey doesn’t say anything, Emily continues. “The art class is an elective. I don’t really know _ what _ I wanna do after school, but I like to draw, so it seemed like a good idea at the time.” 

Lindsey doesn’t respond, at first, and Emily just keeps talking. “I mean, I don’t plan on selling artwork or anything. It’s just a hobby. I know it’s kinda weird, especially because I play softball and study sociology, but it’s fun, so…” 

To get her to stop talking, Lindsey stops walking and gives Emily’s hand a little squeeze. Emily glances over at her. “I think it’s cool, Son. I guess I didn’t expect it. That’s all. You keep surprising me.” 

Emily might be blushing, now. It’s hard to tell in the dark. She looks at her feet. “Well, we don’t really know each other that well, I guess.” 

Lindsey starts walking again, using her hand in Emily’s to pull her along a little, at first. She falls into step with her easily. 

“I know how you take your coffee,” Lindsey points out. Emily nods. “And that you like your bacon extra crispy and prefer your waffles with chocolate chips in them.”

“Do you know anything about me not food related?” Emily jokes as they reach her front porch. She shares a house off campus with several of her teammates. The porch light and the front room lights are on. 

Lindsey looks thoughtful as they walk up the steps. For some reason, Emily doesn’t let go of her hand, so Lindsey can only follow her onto the porch. 

“I know you’ve got a twin sister and that you’re studying sociology but like to draw. And I know you started as a pitcher, in little league, before moving to the infield.” 

Emily tips her head slightly and bites her cheek to hide a smile. “How do you know that?” 

“I looked you up,” Lindsey admits. Once she hears herself, she thinks it sounds a little crazy and now it’s her turn to ramble. “I mean, you came into the restaurant so often and, you know, I saw your last name on your hoodie and I got bored one time, I think during Prior’s class, actually, and Google was right there so…”

Emily reaches for the brim of Lindsey’s (Emily’s) hat and straightens it. Lindsey stops talking. Their eyes meet. Emily leans in a hair. Lindsey leans back. 

Emily’s phone rings, loudly, and they spring apart, dropping each other’s hands. She checks the number and silences it, but the moment’s gone. 

“Well I better-”

“You should probably-”

They both dissolve into laughter while Emily fumbles for her keys and turns to go. 

“Em?”

She turns back, looking both surprised and maybe a little bit expectant. Lindsey loses her words for a second. When she finds them, she takes the cap off of her head and holds it out. “You forgot this.”

Emily blinks, takes the hat, and plops it on her own head. 

“See you Wednesday.”

-

On Wednesday, Emily sits next to her in Prior’s class. 

Rose shows up two minutes before class starts and places her palms on the table on Lindsey’s side. “What happened to the universal college rule of _ don’t take other people’s seats _?” 

“I think that was vetoed in the House,” Emily says, not looking up from her notebook. Lindsey snorts. 

Rose stands there for another minute before Professor Prior shows up and she stomps back to take Emily’s usual spot next to a dozing frat boy. 

They’re talking about Marx, Lindsey thinks, but she’s not paying enough attention to be sure. She’s too busy stealing glances at Emily, who’s spent the majority of the class drawing something. She’s only using pencil, but there’s a technique to the way she alternates the strokes to shade in something darker or lighter. About five minutes before class is over, she sits back to look at her work.

Lindsey glances away. It seems like something private. If Emily wants to share with her, she will. 

She slides the piece of lined paper in Lindsey’s direction without a word. Lindsey’s breath catches in her throat.

It’s a portrait. 

Of _ her _.

It’s from that game against West Virginia. Lindsey can tell because of the celebration, when she’d flashed two fingers in the air after scoring the brace and yelled at the top of her lungs. Lindsey didn’t think Emily even watched soccer, but the likeness if pretty amazing. 

“Wow,” is all she can say.

Emily quirks a brow and steals the drawing back. “Good wow or bad wow?”

“That’s amazing, wow. How’d you-”

“Did somebody have a question?” Professor Prior turns around and blinks in a confused way. Lindsey feels immediately bad and reaches for her phone instead.

**Linds:** how’d you even know about that?

When Emily doesn’t reply immediately and goes back to shading the sketch, Lindsey steps on her foot under the table. Emily gives her a look and Lindsey taps her own cell with her fingers.

**Son: ** oh i watched it  
**Son:** had to go back bc i didn’t really watch before i met u but  
**Son: **worth it

Lindsey doesn’t know what to say to that. This time, Emily steps on Lindsey’s foot.

**Linds: ** im touched  
**Son: ** u shud b. havnt watched soccer since i quit  
**Linds: ** you played?  
**Son: ** yah til high school  
**Son:** had to pick bt soccer and softball and got the better scholarship for softball  
**Son: **im full of surprises huh

She also sends a series of thumbs-up emojis.

-

“Are you guys dating yet?” Rose asks as she wipes down tables that night. 

Lindsey looks up from the register, alarmed. It’s around the time Emily usually comes in. There’s no sign of her, so Lindsey finishes ringing out a customer and replaces her customer service smile with a glare as soon as she turns around to face Rose. 

“We’re not just friends.”

“You don’t look at me like that,” Rose points out, moving on to the next table. “Or Mal or Sammy or-”

“Okay, Rosie, I love you, but please shut up.” 

Emily’s stands in the doorway for a moment, catches Lindsey’s eye, and waves before sliding into her booth. Lindsey’s already heading over there with coffee and Rose coughs out a _ whipped _ before disappearing behind the counter.

“Hi!” She calls a she approaches and pours Emily’s first cup and leaves her with the pot. “What can I get you today?” Lindsey’s stopped bringing menus and her notepad to Emily’s table because she always orders the same thing, so her hands feel empty. She places her palms on the table instead.

“How about a dinner date?” Emily asks, flicking her eyes to the seat across from her. 

Lindsey’s mouth goes a little bit dry. She can _ feel _ Rose staring at them. “What?”

Emily’s shoulders are turned inward and she’s worrying her cheek. “We had team dinner earlier so I’m not gonna be able to crush my usual platter, but I figured if we split it…”

“Oh.” 

Emily looks up, then, and seems to process what she said. “Oh.” 

“I can’t eat my bacon that crisp.” 

Emily exhales. “Okay, fine, but it can’t be all rubbery, either.” 

“Got it.”

When she goes to the kitchen to put their order in, Rose arches an eyebrow. Lindsey ignores her.

-

Emily’s doing her usual Wednesday evening routine, which means she has two classes worth of readings to do. One of those two classes is for their shared philosophy class, and when Lindsey brings Emily her food and a fresh pot of coffee, she notices.

“Wait,” Lindsey says, sliding into the booth opposite her. “Do we have a quiz Friday?”

Emily nods. She looks up from the text. “Don’t you read the syllabus?” 

Lindsey shakes her head and then nods. “I mean, back at the beginning of the semester…” She spears a piece of waffle and takes a bite, chewing thoughtfully before asking. “Read to me?” 

Emily only looks like she thinks about it for a second. Then, she lifts the textbook and starts to read the chapter on Marx out loud. It takes them Lindsey’s entire half an hour break to get through the chapter and their dinner, but they manage. 

When Emily puts the book down, she pulls a notebook towards her instead, finds a fresh sheet, and starts to draw. Lindsey’s not watching her hand this time. She’s looking at the way Emily concentrates when she does it, how her forehead wrinkles and she sticks her tongue out. 

It’s cute. Emily’s cute. 

Lindsey’s so fucked.

“Linds!” Rose calls, pulling her attention.

“Duty calls.”

“See ya.”

-

**Son:** whatd you think of priors quiz  
**Linds: ** that i would’ve failed if you didn’t read me the chapter.  
**Linds:** what’d you think?  
**Son: **i think i liked him better when he didnt test us

-

It’s just a scrimmage, but that doesn’t mean Lindsey doesn’t prepare the same way. She still listens to her pregame playlist, still double-knots her cleats, and still takes five shots from the 18 before lining up for the opening kick. 

Once the whistle blows, she’s focused. Her touches are good. She’s finding her teammates in the box, and she assists on a goal in the 7th minute. 

It’s not until she scores in the 41st that she hears it.

Unmistakably, from the scattered crowd, Emily’s absolutely _ screaming _ her name. It catches on the wind and carries right to her and Lindsey looks up to find Emily with a couple of her softball teammates huddled in the mostly empty bleachers. 

She’s wearing a knit beanie and the widest smile while she waves at her from across the field. Lindsey lifts her hand in return and Rose nails her in the stomach with the ball.

“Pay attention!”

She scores one more goal and adds another assist before it’s all over, and after Coach talks to them, Lindsey jogs back to the field and looks up.

Emily and her friends aren’t there. Lindsey tries not to feel bad about it. It was nice that she came at all. As she turns to head back to grab her stuff, she hears the indisputable sound of a soccer ball ricocheting off of the post. 

When Lindsey turns, she sees the unmistakable messy bun before she sees the rest of Emily jogging towards her. “Hey! Good game, Linds. Made me wanna bust out the old moves.” Lindsey watches her dribble the ball in place for a beat before lurching forward to try and steal it.

“1 v. 1?” 

And Lindsey can’t really say no to that. 

“First to three, though, I’m tired.”

“Aw, poor thing. Getting too old to go a full 90 and extra time?” 

Lindsey surges towards Emily, who skies the ball up over her head and puts her head down to try and outrun Lindsey to the ball. She does, barely, and flicks it into the far net. “Too easy, Linds.” 

Lindsey feels something coiling in her gut, then. She runs harder and faster to try and slip the ball behind Emily, but Emily’s _ good_. It takes her three tries to get around her and she has to avoid a slide tackle to get the first goal. 

“1-1, Sonny,” Lindsey chirps, lining up again. 

They trade two more goals.

It goes on like that for a while, neither of them willing to give up that third goal. Lindsey sends one wide due to Emily’s pressure. Emily almost gets in on goal but Lindsey cuts her off out of nowhere. 

Somehow, Lindsey ends up in the corner without anyone to pass off to, but she’s got body position and height on her side. Emily doesn’t give up, though. She gets right in close and tries to pry the ball free by kicking lightly at the back of Lindsey’s foot, a hand resting light on the small of her back. 

It’s that touch that messes Lindsey up, the way Emily’s fingers curl in the back of Lindsey’s shirt and how she’s pressed right up against her back. 

Lindsey turns around. 

That catches Emily off guard. They’re chest-to-chest only briefly before Emily stutters a step back and trips over those perpetually untied shoelaces. Lindsey pauses for a second before collecting the ball and depositing it into the net with a long-ball. 

“Asshole,” Emily complains from her ass. 

Lindsey offers her a hand-up. Emily takes it, locks her fingers around Lindsey’s forearm, and tugs. It makes her lose her balance just enough to topple over onto the grass.

She falls right on top of Emily. Well, half-way on top of her, her hand awkwardly on Emily’s chest, her knee digging uncomfortably into Emily’s stomach. Their faces are impossibly close. She can feel Emily’s sharp exhale. 

“Shit, sorry, hang on.” She rolls off of her and Emily cracks up, bringing her hands to her face. Lindsey sits up. Emily’s still flat on her back, laughing. “Hey.” She reaches for Emily’s hands and tugs, pulling them away from her face. 

“Son, _ what _?”

“If you wanted to get closer, you could’ve just asked.”

-

**Linds:** what are you doing this weekend?  
**Son: ** the baseball teams having a party that i dont rly wanna go to  
**Son:** u?  
**Linds:** working all weekend. i’ll see you sunday, right?  
**Son:** yeah ofc wouldnt miss it

-

It’s Saturday. 

It’s a busy day at the restaurant right from the open. Lindsey doesn’t get to sit down for the first two hours of her shift. Every time a table opens up, another group walks inside and takes it over. 

She hates working Saturdays. There are four servers this morning and it still doesn’t seem like enough. It’s suffocating.

She just needs to take a break. Two minutes, maybe, and she’ll feel better. 

As soon as she steps outside, she almost runs right into someone trying to enter. “Sorry, sorry,” Lindsey reaches out to steady the person and comes face to face with Emily. 

“Hey, Linds. You okay?” Emily’s eyebrows are knitted as she slides her hands down Lindsey’s biceps to her forearms and ducks her head to catch her eye. 

“Em?” Lindsey says, drawing her off to the side of the restaurant so people can still get in and out. She tilts her head slightly. “It’s Saturday.”

Emily smiles and it makes her eyes crinkle. “Yeah, it is.”

“You don’t come to Waffle House on Saturdays.”

“Not usually, no. But I’m not here for the waffles.” Lindsey’s about to ask Emily what she’s doing here, then, but she doesn’t get the chance to.

Because Emily’s leaning in to kiss her before Lindsey has a chance to process what’s happening. Their first kiss is soft and over too quickly. Lindsey barely has a chance to react before Emily draws back. Lindsey knows she can do better than that. 

She reaches out to rest a hand on Emily’s neck, her thumb pressed against her jaw, and tips her head this time to get a better angle. She kisses Emily’s mouth and feels her heart stutter a little bit in her chest and feels _ Emily _ sigh into her mouth. She just barely catches Emily’s lower lip as she breaks the kiss and Emily chases her lips for another quick peck before falling back onto her heels. 

Emily’s eyelids flutter open. She’s wearing her soft Lindsey smile and a faint blush on her cheeks. “I came for the cute server,” she says and her voice is a little bit hoarse. 

Lindsey hums thoughtfully. “Do you need me to go get her for you?” She takes a step away from her and Emily pulls her back by the hand.

“I know you have to work, but what are you doing later? Do you wanna grab dinner or something?”

Lindsey just nods. “It’s a date.” 

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading and hope you enjoyed
> 
> you can request me on twitter @cornerkix_ for maximum insight into the mind of the author if you want!


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